Shanghai Story: A WWII Drama Trilogy Book One

by Alexa Kang

  They spun around. This time, he pulled her closer.

  “So, what would you say to her if she were singing to you? Could you drop every restraint and forget all your worries? Would you indulge in the moment of blissful intoxication like she said?” She raised her head and looked him in the eye.

  He looked back at her. The conflict on his face fused with the yearning in his eyes. She felt his quickening breath on her neck. As the sound of the music rose, he ran his fingers lightly down her bare arm. The touch on her skin lit a spark and she gasped. If he kissed her right then, she would let him. Like the woman in the song, she would urge him to drink and live for the moment.

  And like the song, the moment passed. Something broke the spell, and she could not tell what. Something else had drawn his attention. In the midst of her confusion, Tang Wei came up to them. “A little selfish of you to keep the lady to yourself all night,” he said jokingly to Clark.

  To her disappointment, Clark was all too willing to let her go.

  “May I?” Tang Wei held out his hand, inviting her for a dance.

  “Of course.” She accepted out of courtesy. As Tang Wei led her through the motions and steps, she watched Clark make his way to a table where he joined a man in Japanese military uniform.

  Would you be happy?

  The question hounded Clark’s mind when the winning smile of the man sitting alone at a table behind Eden broke the spell. When Clark finally recognized him, he raised his glass.

  Kenji Konoe. Military attaché to the Japanese consul in Shanghai.

  Clark glanced at his own table. Apparently, Tang Wei had spotted the Japanese captain too.

  Konoe held out his hand, signaling an empty seat next to him. Discreetly, Clark exchanged a look with Tang Wei. Tang Wei got up and came over to him. “A little selfish of you to keep the lady to yourself all night.” He jokingly slapped Clark on the back.

  Taking the cue, Clark let go of Eden. The flood of longing and intoxicating bliss deserted him along with the tantalizing touch of her skin. Only pangs of empty heartache remained.

  “May I?” Tang invited Eden to dance.

  “Of course.” She gave Tang her hand. A shade of disappointment fleeted past her face.

  Clark looked away. He couldn't think about that now. Konoe was seeking him out. It was imperative for him to find out whether it was a coincidence or not. He left them for the Japanese captain.

  At Kenji’s table, Clark cordially pulled out the chair. "Konoe-san.”

  “Counselor,” Konoe greeted him. “Please. Call me Kenji.” He picked up a bottle of wine and poured some into a clean glass for Clark.

  “Thank you,” Clark said, accepting the glass. “What a surprise to see you here.” The Japanese didn’t usually mix with the Western crowd or the Chinese.

  “Not my preferred way of spending an evening, I’ll admit. But what can I do? My colleagues need a little release now and then. I’m obliged to accompany them.” He looked over at several Japanese men dancing with sing-song girls in heavy makeup and provocative dresses. In contrast to Konoe’s serene exterior, those men looked drunk. Their dancing steps looked erratic as they stumbled and bowed over laughing at whatever joke the girls were cooing in their ears.

  “But you sit here by yourself?” Clark asked.

  “I’m married.”

  Married? Clark gave him a puzzled look. Being married had never stopped wayward men from wandering about town seeking the pleasure of the company of women.

  Konoe’s smile deepened. “In China, we Japanese do have a reputation of being prurient. But personally speaking, lust repulses me. I have my wife, and that is enough.”

  Clark did not doubt him. Konoe struck him as someone whose lucid mind would not allow him to succumb to the baser instincts of humanity.

  “What about you?” Konoe asked. “What brought you here tonight?”

  Clark glanced at Zhou Xuan on the stage. “Her. She’s China’s number one singer. I didn’t want to miss a live performance.”

  “Ah.” Konoe ran his finger slowly around the rim of his glass. “Zhou Xuan. She is exceptional. I can’t say I’m a fan of Chinese music. I like Japanese folk music. The ones that tell tales of warriors defeating demons and sending them back to the spirit world. But I do recognize it when I see something extraordinary. Like her.”

  Clark took a slow sip of his wine. Once again, he felt a natural affinity for the Japanese captain. Konoe was someone who spoke to his mind on a level beyond the superficial. Clark felt himself gravitating toward him, if only he weren’t a potential enemy.

  “You should join me for a tea ceremony at my home,” Konoe said. “This place is too loud. My home is more peaceful. Tranquil. We can have a more meaningful discussion about things that are extraordinary.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” Clark gave him a quick smile.

  “How about tomorrow afternoon? The koicha I use is of the finest quality from Japan. You can’t get it anywhere else in Shanghai. You can compare it to the best Chinese tea you’ve ever had and decide for yourself which one is superior.”

  Clark considered his offer. Konoe was serious. His invitation wasn’t hollow talk to make conversation.

  “In that case, how can I say no?” Clark raised his glass. The promise of fine tea enticed him, of course. Even more intriguing was Konoe himself.

  Besides, this was a chance to get to know an enemy.

  How would one capture the tiger’s cub without entering the tiger’s den?

  20

  No Self

  Concealed behind a stone wall in the Hongkew District, the Konoe residence wasn’t an easy one to find. Huang Shifu, the chauffeur, had to circle the block several times before he finally found the mansion’s entrance. A simple, nondescript brown wooden gate. In a city where everyone flaunted their wealth, the obscurity of the Japanese captain’s home stood out to Clark as even more distinct.

  A male servant opened the gate. Clark entered and stepped into a whole other world. The path from the gate led them to a stunning green garden of moss, embellished by harmonious arrangements of boulders and carefully trimmed bonsai trees.

  The path ended at a small bridge over an artificial pond. As they crossed over to the other side, the noises of the bustling city ebbed, replaced by the sound of water flowing down a small waterfall over the rocks stacked in the shape of a miniature mountain at the edge of the pond’s east side. The pleasant chirps of birds chased away all melancholy.

  They came to the entrance of the house, where the servant offered Clark a pair of slippers. When Clark was ready, he took him to a waiting room and invited him to sit on the tatami floor. Quietly, he served Clark a cup of roasted barley tea from the pot already set on the low table.

  “I will notify the captain you’ve arrived,” he said and closed the sliding door.

  After he left, Clark put down his cup and went to the side of the room to the alcove, where an exquisite floral arrangement of narcissus and a sculpture of limestone had been put on display. A lone scroll hung on the wall with the calligraphic depiction of the single word wu. Or mu in Kanji in Japanese.

  Wu. Nothing. Have not. A state of nothingness.

  Interesting. Was there a message behind it that Konoe wanted him to know?

  He returned to his seat. Soon after, the sliding door opened. Konoe entered, dressed in a dark gray hakama. “Counselor.”

  “Konoe-san.” Clark uncrossed his legs to get up. Konoe held out his hand, indicating to his guest to remain seated. He knelt down himself and bowed. Following the custom, Clark bowed back in return.

  “A tea ceremony is a solemn ritual in my house. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to dispense with the formality of addressing each other in honorifics. I consider you a friend. You can call me Kenji, as you would if we’d met as fellow students in America.”

  “Kenji, then.” Clark smiled. “You have a beautiful home.” He turned around and gazed at the scroll. “An interesting choice of artwork.”
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  “It’s a reminder. Have you heard of the concept of ‘no self’? It’s a state of existence that very few people can ever achieve. It’s extraordinary. People, in general, are driven to cater to the needs and desires of the self. That becomes their pitfall. They cannot overcome themselves to attain purity of mind. Without purity of mind, they become clouded by joy, guilt, regret, sadness, anger, the need to avenge. Any one of those things can derail them from what they’d set out to achieve and cause them to fail to reach the peak of greatness.”

  “And you believe you can reach the state of no self?”

  “I believe you and I both can. It’s what makes you and me different. You’re driven by something beyond yourself, beyond your own desires. Tell me, am I wrong?”

  “I can’t say,” Clark said. “If you mean I wish to do what’s best for my own country, I suppose I can admit to that. I do feel compelled to do what’s good for my own people. I’m not sure that necessarily makes me someone capable of abandoning myself.”

  “You can if you set your mind to it.” Konoe got up. “Come with me. Maybe after our tea ceremony, you’ll be able to see if you have what it takes.” He opened the door.

  Clark stood up. He took one more look at the scroll, then followed his host out of the room.

  Konoe took him down the corridor where Clark could see no furnishing in sight until they passed the family shrine set on a lacquer shelf under a rope of twisted rice straws. Unlike the simple design of the rest of the house, the shrine was elaborately carved into a beautiful miniature temple. A spread of offering of sake, rice, water, and salt, along with two small vases of perfectly arranged flowers illuminated by small candles, lay beneath the paper amulets on either side.

  “That’s beautiful,” Clark said. “Quite different from the Chinese ones.”

  Konoe stopped and stepped up to the shrine. “My ancestry can be traced back to the Fujiwaras.”

  “The ruling clan from the eighth century?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your family belongs to the Kazoku?”

  Konoe admitted they did with a modest nod. “From one of the five regent houses of Fujiwara.”

  Nobility of the highest rank. Being a descendant of the Fujiwara clan would make him equivalent to a duke or a prince. No wonder Konoe could afford to live in such luxury.

  Understated luxury. The kind that only someone of his lineage could manage as they had no need for wealth to define them.

  “This way.” Konoe extended his arm toward the back door.

  They exited the building into a rock garden of white gravel carefully raked into large circles. Mesmerized, Clark stopped.

  “You like this?” asked Konoe.

  “Yes.” The garden had a surprisingly calming effect. “It’s sublime.”

  “I often come here to meditate. To clear my mind. The circles are symbols of the void. Emptiness. The state of absolute nothingness.”

  Clark stepped closer to the garden’s edge. “No self.”

  “No self.”

  They continued walking to a small cabin behind the main mansion. Clark guessed this must be the teahouse. Before entering, Konoe washed his hands with water he scooped from a stone basin, and invited Clark to do the same.

  “Washing is to purify oneself,” Konoe explained.

  When they finished, they proceeded into the teahouse, where a petite woman in a peach silk kimono was directing a houseboy straightening dining ware on the table.

  “This is my wife, Chiyoko,” Konoe said. The little woman bowed. She kept her head low, barely daring to raise her eyes. Still, Clark caught a glimpse of her face. Her skin, though white, looked pallid. Her thick brows and wide nose prevented her from being anything that could be described as a beauty. Her pairing with Konoe, a handsome man by any account, could not be any more of a mismatch.

  “Our tea ceremony will be preceded by a kaiseki meal. Chiyoko always oversees the arrangements herself when we have special guests to make sure everything is prepared correctly.” He turned to his wife and spoke to her in Japanese. Or rather, he gave her a command. At least it sounded that way to Clark.

  When Konoe finished speaking, Chiyoko bowed again and retreated out of the teahouse.

  “She’s not joining us?” Clark asked.

  “No. Please. Have a seat.”

  Clark knelt down at the seat across from Konoe. The houseboy began by serving them each a cup of sake.

  “Thank you,” Clark said to the servant.

  “No need to thank him.” Konoe drank his cup. “He’s a deaf-mute.”

  A deaf-mute? Clark watched the boy as he refilled Konoe’s sake.

  “He came to us looking for a job. I took pity on him.”

  Pity? Maybe. Or a cunning guard against eavesdropping, Clark thought. Konoe might be many things, but Clark couldn’t see him as a man predisposed to charity.

  Oblivious to what Konoe had just said, the houseboy continued his work and brought in their first course.

  Clark picked up his cup. “I’m curious, why would a member of a great Kazoku family such as yourself join the military? Why come all the way to China? You certainly don’t need to subject yourself under anyone.”

  Konoe laughed. “I am spoiled. Our army does hold me in high regard, even though I don’t think I deserve it. I haven’t fought in battles in the tradition of our great samurai.” He circled his finger around the rim of his cup. Clark remembered him doing this too at the dance hall last night. “I joined the military to help realize a greater dream.”

  “What dream?”

  Instead of answering his question, Konoe looked Clark in the eye. “When you were studying abroad, were you ever slighted by the Americans? White Americans?”

  “Personally? No. I did feel like an outsider at times. People who didn’t usually come into contact with Oriental people sometimes gave me odd looks. But I was very glad there were places like the Chinatowns in New York City and San Francisco. At least there was somewhere I could go to get a decent Chinese meal.”

  With a serious face, Konoe asked, “What about the Chinese Exclusion Act? Doesn’t that offend you?”

  “It is insulting to the Chinese people living in that country. But it’s their law. There’s nothing I can do about it. What’s more important to me is to build up my own country. If China continues to improve, there’ll be no need for our people to immigrate elsewhere, and the immigration laws of other countries won’t matter.”

  “I disagree. It matters because it reflects how they see us. The Americans exclude not only the Chinese, but all Asiatic people. It was Woodrow Wilson who vetoed the proposal for racial equality at the Paris Peace Conference when my country presented it for a vote. Clearly, they see us as inferior.”

  “Why did you even go to America to study if you feel this way?”

  “To prove that I’m not inferior. I graduated first in my class.”

  First in his class. Even Clark felt a rush of Asian pride. “You want to change their attitude?”

  “I have no expectation their attitude will ever change. If we want to be on equal footing with them, we need to create a new world order.”

  “A new world order?”

  “Yes. An international division where all Asian countries will unite and form a powerful bloc that promotes the interests of the Asiatic people. A Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere free of Western domination and colonial oppression. A new world order where there will be a harmonious balance between the East and the West. The Whites, the Negroes, and the Asiatics.”

  “That’s a very ambitious dream,” Clark said, noting the fierceness in Konoe’s eyes. “How do you propose to make that happen?”

  “Imagine a coalition of countries in the East coming together to create an Asia for Asiatics. We can liberate ourselves forever from the chains of imperialism. China, Japan, Siam, Singapore, the Philippines, Cambodia, Burma, Indonesia, Vietnam, Laos, Mongolia, Manchukuo.”

  “Manchukuo?” Clark lowered his chopsticks. �
�Pardon my speaking honestly. Manchukuo is hardly free, and the Western countries aren’t the ones to blame.”

  Konoe smiled and lowered his head, then looked up again. “Sometimes, an Asian country may be too weak to stand on its own in face of Western power. My country stood up and protected Manchuria from a Russian invasion. We restored the region to its rightful ruler under the state of Manchukuo.”

  “Puyi?” The puppet ruler?

  “He’s fragile. He lived his entire life sheltered and hidden in a glass house. He needs proper guidance, and we’re there to give him the support he needs.”

  What a way to twist the truth. Did Konoe actually believe this? That Japan’s occupation of Manchukuo was a benevolent act of kindness? “What about the rest of the Asian countries? Who will lead them to create this Co-Prosperity Sphere you speak of?”

  The question caught Konoe off guard. He paused to look at Clark, then eased and took another sip of his drink. “If we look at the world today, there is only one country capable of elevating Asia into the modern world. I know you’d prefer it to be China. I would, too, if I were you. But you can’t deny it. China is weak. Your people aren’t united. Your government is rife with corruption. It is a shame. A country with such potential, but it is the nature of the Shinas to succumb to their own petty personal needs over the needs of their own country, to falter and lose sight of the grandeur of that which is everlasting. Look at your history. Dynasty after dynasty. Every one of them eventually toppled. Look at us. The Japanese imperial family had been there since the beginning. The bloodline is pure.”

  “How can you compare the two? China’s history goes back five thousand years. Much longer than Japan’s. It’s also much bigger. It’s harder to control.”